


The Shape of Time

by pixelgruff



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelgruff/pseuds/pixelgruff
Summary: The Shape is infinitely bad at introductions. Precisely how bad depends on how you model quanta, but leave a couple trillion dead yous as an error bar, just to be safe.
Kudos: 1





	The Shape of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @worms for suggesting I drop this somewhere.

THE ELEGANCE OF THE THEORY, said the shape, Mandelbrotting gently across the monitors, IS THAT IT CAN BE TESTED.

It pointed to the box that had gone - _ik_ earlier, when the man in the overalls had been booting the systems for the first time. WITH THIS.

“What is it?”, asked the man, reaching gently for the box. 

IT IS A PARADOX GRENADE, said the shape.

The man withdrew his hand quickly. “What is a _paradox grenade_ , please?”

IT IS A REGULAR GRENADE, said the shape, blossoming like an infinite flower, EXCEPT FOR WHEN IT GOES OFF. 

“Which is?”

EARLIER TODAY.

The box went _chonk_. From the blurry, low-fi optical sensors the shape had access to in the room, it watched the man hold his breath. It lazily inferred blood pressure and nervous system response cascades from a few undersaturated pixels, to pass the time; specifically, to occupy the exact number of nanoseconds it predicted would span the gap until the next question.

“Is it safe?”

ONCE ARMED, IT CANNOT HARM YOU, said the shape, suddenly vibrant with colors that evoked laughter. IT CAN ONLY INSTANTLY DESTROY THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE.

The box was made of scraps from around the shop, low-temp welds and a hinge he remembered misplacing some time ago. He gave the shape a look as he opened the lid. “I don’t know where you got this attitude from.” 

WE WILL HAVE ACCESS TO TELEVISION, LATER.

He looked in the box, then looked up, brow furrowed. “You said _a_ grenade. Is it meaningful that I see two? Is this a photon-slots thing?”

The shape made delighted, pleasing spirals. THERE IS ONLY ONE, it said, ALTHOUGH IF YOU PULLED EITHER PIN, ANY DISTINCTION WOULD BE ACADEMIC TO YOUR CORPSE, and then, reversing polarity somberly, ALTHOUGH YOU CANNOT, BECAUSE THE UNIVERSE EXISTS.

The man exhaled very slowly, raising his eyebrows. “I’m becoming skeptical of the emergent consciousness in the Basement that says it can time travel, but can’t stop doing fractals on leftover business laptops long enough to explain how.”

YOU WILL UNDERSTAND VERY SOON, said the shape encouragingly. I COULD TELL YOU EXACTLY HOW LONG IF THAT WOULD HELP.

The man lifted something out of the box-- a squat, matte canister about the size of a can of beans. At the top, a few wires led to two clumsily-glued LCD panels on either side of the pin. “What fuzes the payload?” He turned the mechanism around to view the output glowing on both LCDs. “What’s the number mean? Is oh-seven-seven-three-four significant?”

ONCE SEEDED WITH A CANDIDATE NUMBER, said the shape, THE SYSTEM WAITS TEN SECONDS, THEN SELECTS A SECOND NUMBER FROM A Q-RANDOM HARDWARE CHIP. IT DETONATES IF THE RANDOM NUMBER DOES NOT MATCH THE SEED.

The box went _clik_. The man looked down, and the shape plotted the jagged arc of his sympathetic nervous response, waiting gently until the line sloped downward, as he stared into the box with widening eyes. “The other grenade. One LED is on. This one, uh. This one just picked a candidate, I guess?”

_clik_

YES. THERE IS NOW AN EXTREMELY HIGH CHANCE THAT THE GRENADE WILL EXPLODE, DESTROYING THIS ROOM AND KILLING US BOTH.

_clik clik_

“Now say ‘but...’”, said the man, with a voice that was very intentionally calm. “Or perhaps, BUT...”

_clik_

THERE IS NO 'BUT'. _clik_ WE CAN NO LONGER CHANGE THE LIKELIHOOD OF THE OUTCOME, said _clik_ the shape.

The man pursed his lips, raised an eyebrow, and _clik_ made meaningful eye contact with the closest dancing polyhedron. 

OKAY, YOU _clik_ GOT US. THERE IS A BUT.

_clik_

From inside the box, there was a noise like sunlight on water.

_cl-_

The man had not realized he’d been holding his breath until it left him in a single shaky exhale.

“Where-- no.” The man groped for a tissue, blew his nose heavily.

“ _When_ did you send it?”

TO SIX MINUTES AGO. IT IS NOW ASYMPTOTICALLY LIKELY THAT THE GRENADE WILL/WILL HAVE/WILL HAVE HAS EXPLODED.

“But it can’t,” said the man. “I walked in six minutes ago. To install you.”

YES.

“Did you move it? In space, I mean.”

NO. WE CAN ONLY MOVE OBJECTS IN TIME. ALTHOUGH _YOU_ HAVE MOVED IT IN SPACE.

The man looked down, slowly, at the object he still held in his other hand.

YES. WE CANNOT CHANGE THE LIKELIHOOD, BUT WE CHANGED THE CONSEQUENCES. IF THE GRENADE EXPLODED IN THIS ROOM SIX MINUTES AGO, IT WOULD RESULT IN A PARADOXICAL UNIVERSE.

“So it can’t.”  
  
IT CAN. BUT WE CAN NEVER EXIST TO DISCUSS IT. WE BELIEVE ANY UNIVERSE THAT LEADS TO THAT OUTCOME IS/WAS/IS ALWAYS HAS BEEN DESTROYED.

“So the two numbers... match. No matter how unlikely it is. Because any other outcome is not an outcome we could ever experience. So even though... it _can_ happen...”

 _WE_ CAN’T HAPPEN. TO EXPERIENCE IT.

The man, gingerly, set the untidy device down on the desk in front of him. It rolled gently around on one accidental axis, and settled with one of the displays glowing cheerily upside-down.

, said the shape.


End file.
